


Service to the Crown

by days4daisy



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Extra Treat, F/M, First Time, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Porn with Feelings, Post-Thor: Ragnarok (2017), Power Dynamics, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-20
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:40:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24781711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/days4daisy/pseuds/days4daisy
Summary: “You’re joking,” Valkyrie says. But she knows Thor isn’t joking.Stories and rumors used to float around the palace. Tales of the royal lineage and their...periods of complication. The All-Father had the Odinsleep, this was well-documented. But there was talk of other such maladies in the bloodline. Afflictions so ridiculous they had to be fake.Valkyrie doesn’t need stories now, she has eyes. She sees Thor’s white-knuckled grip on her door frame. The fever-flush glowing on his cheeks. The unnatural shine over his remaining eye.
Relationships: Brunnhilde | Valkyrie/Thor (Marvel)
Comments: 14
Kudos: 86
Collections: Heat Fic Summer 2020





	Service to the Crown

**Author's Note:**

  * For [downjune](https://archiveofourown.org/users/downjune/gifts).



> Have a lovely Heat Fic Summer, downjune!

“You’re joking,” Valkyrie says. But she knows Thor isn’t joking.

Stories and rumors used to float around the palace. Tales of the royal lineage and their...periods of complication. The All-Father had the Odinsleep, this was well-documented. But there was talk of other such maladies in the bloodline. Afflictions so ridiculous they had to be fake.

Valkyrie doesn’t need stories now, she has eyes. She sees Thor’s white-knuckled grip on her door frame. The fever-flush glowing on his cheeks. The unnatural shine over his remaining eye.

“I wish I was,” Thor says. “Trust me.” He pauses, cringes. “Er. Not that I regret coming here. But I wish it was a joke, like you said. But it’s not. And I fear I-”

“Will you get in here?” Valkyrie huffs.

Thor cranes an awkward look back, as if aware for the first time that he is lurched over in Valkyrie’s doorway. Any of his loyal subjects could see what Valkyrie does. “Right,” Thor mumbles. He steps inside - staggers, more like - and collapses into a chair across from Valkyrie’s bed.

With the new king of Asgard safely settled, Valkyrie closes and locks the door. She also flashes a middle finger at it too, in case a certain guardian is watching with his golden eyes. Old habits.

Thor hunches over his knees, back rising and falling with heavy breaths. Sweat dampens the hair along the base of his neck. Valkyrie can only imagine how his leather tunic must stick to him. Next to this, an Odinsleep would have been far less problematic…

“I don’t mean to burden you,” Thor says. Which is a lie, because he is in Valkyrie’s bedroom burdening her right now. “I didn’t know where else to go.”

Another lie, there are plenty of places her new king could have gone. Off to his snake of a brother to seek remedy, though Thor no doubt feared the merciless mockery he would get. To the Earther who...somehow is also the former champion of Sakaar. Or the all-seeing guardian of Asgard Valkyrie just pleasantly flipped off. Valkyrie should offer up any of these other options. “I’m your last resort then,” is what she says instead.

Thor chuckles, strained and quiet. “Far from it,” he says. He lifts his head, a smile playing on his lips. “I trust you, Val. The timing is terrible, but I do trust you. If you can’t do this though, if you won’t, I’ll understand. Truly, I will.”

Thor’s smile is small and honest. He _does_ trust her, that’s the problem. He trusts her even though she sold him off on Sakaar, watched him almost die, and did so knowing exactly who he was. Everything that’s happened between then and now shouldn’t matter. Thor doesn't know her, certainly not enough to trust her.

“Hard to claim you trust someone when you don’t even know their real name,” Valkyrie points out.

Thor concedes with a nod. “Yet I’m here,” he says.

So he is, his single eye on her. He sits patiently despite his condition, which Valkyrie sees now is dire. Thor's breaths hitch through parted lips, hands twitching over the arms of the chair. His boots rasp against the carpet. The flush, she sees, touches more than his face. It creeps down his neck and disappears under his tunic. Thor’s jaw is tight, tension fluttering under the bone.

From the stories, Valkyrie wonders if she needs Dragonfang or her daggers. These afflictions steal reason from the most measured of warriors, they say. And though Valkyrie counts herself out of no fight, she has seen exactly who and what Thor is. What he can do.

But Thor makes no move to advance, not yet. His hands bridge between his knees, thumbs running up and down his own skin. He has no reason to trust her this much. “ _If_ I agree to help you,” Valkyrie speaks carefully, “we do this my way. I don’t care about who you are in here. No titles, no ‘your majesties.’ If we do this, you do what I tell you.”

Surely, she’ll get some push back to these terms. Thor is very few of the nasty things Valkyrie has thought of Asgard’s crown over the past millennium. But he’s still Odin’s son, and king. He has a healthy ego and the power to back it up.

But Thor nods, and he doesn’t say a word.

Valkyrie is used to being looked at - a right of passage on Sakaar. But the kind of look Thor is giving her now… It’s been awhile, to put it mildly. “If I say ‘stop,’ we stop,” Valkyrie adds. “And if you don’t feel like you can stop, we stop. Do you hear me?”

"Yes,” Thor replies. His voice sinks in volume, quiet and rough. “Thank you, Val. You don’t have to do this. You don’t have to help me, but… Thank you.” He sounds too heartfelt. Valkyrie needs to put a stop to it.

“It’s been awhile since I’ve offered my services to the crown,” Valkyrie replies with a shrug. “Guess I'm overdue.”

She thinks of taking the lead, testing Thor's resolve with fingers through his bad haircut. His arms would wind around her, no doubt. Strong and thick, drawing her in. His mouth at her breasts, his breath on her skin, and-

Too soon. Way too soon. She backs towards the bed. “Undress then,” she says. “Can’t help you with all that on.”

Valkyrie expects the condition to affect Thor like drink. Make him smirk and put on a show. Turn this silly and amusing, easy to toss away as soon as it’s done.

But Valkyrie feels the gravity in Thor when he rises from the seat. Thor is an odd character, his strength undercut by moments of - well, being an idiot. But in times like this, face soft and serious, she remembers how powerful he truly is.

There is no pretense to the sharp way he yanks his tunic over his head. The leather pops off his sweaty skin. Underneath, fever-heat blushes to the waist of his trousers. They sit low, of course they do, hips carved in like blade wounds. Half-undressed, Valkyrie can better see Thor’s heaving chest.

Valkyrie can also see the activity below the waist of Thor’s trousers. A thick line of arousal tents out the front. Valkyrie swallows. “Pants too,” she says, keeping her voice even.

Thor finally smiles, more of bemusement than any sort of swagger. He is careful with himself, keeping any pressure on his crotch to a minimum. His hands shake as he pushes the slacks down, and he wobbles when he steps out first from his boots, then from the pants. He’s big, of course. Cock red and curved eagerly towards his belly. Without provocation, desire sits wet on Thor's cockhead and weeps in slow, fat beads down his skin.

Thor clenches hands at his sides. He meets Valkyrie’s gaze, then looks away. It’s ridiculous. He’s King of Asgard, or what’s left of it. Odin’s kid. Not someone who should feel shame under Valkyrie’s eyes.

“Can’t even look at me, huh?” Valkyrie can’t help herself.

Thor chuckles, the sound thick and hitching. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he says. “If I keep looking, I might.” He sounds regretful, and breathless. His voice alone makes that telltale feeling butterfly out through her hips.

“Get on the bed,” Valkyrie says. “On your back.”

Thor climbs onto the bed without hesitation and claims the middle for himself. He seems to take up the whole mattress, arms and legs spread and sex pushed out like a trophy. Valkyrie should be of a single mindset, helping her king out of this mess. But he’s a sight to behold, breaths choppy with anticipation. It’s hard not to get swept up in the moment.

But she can’t. The second she does, she loses control of this whole night and whatever may come after.

Valkyrie shows Thor her back and peels off her shirt. Her pants and undergarments follow. She works methodically, no show to speak of. Valkyrie places her clothes on the chair where Thor was sitting moments before. She turns back towards him, naked, holding her face calm.

A change comes over Thor. His curious gaze dilates, enough desire in his single eye for two. Valkyrie sees conflict on his face, some desire to be proper despite his condition. But the approval in his stare is obvious, tongue-wet lips popping open. “Put your hands above your head,” Valkyrie blurts without thinking. “I touch you, you don’t touch me unless I say. Deal?”

It takes Thor a moment to focus on her words instead of her body. The change seems like a struggle; his open desire becomes muddled at first. Confusion becomes a downward tug of Thor’s mouth. “Right, of course.” He lifts his arms and links his hands together. The pose stretches him out, makes his skin pull even tighter over the build of his torso. Thor’s arms are all muscle too, and his knuckles turn white the moment he clasps his hands together.

Valkyrie bites the inside of her cheek. One couldn’t blame the sight for getting to her, of course, but she has to keep control no matter the cost. For Thor, of course. Thor needs her to keep control. It has nothing to do with herself. Her own thoughts, her own feelings. Of course not. “Stay there,” Valkyrie tells him. “And don’t talk, just - stay. For now.”

If there’s one thing the Grandmaster’s barge has plenty of, it’s lubricant. Valkyrie happens to have a healthy-sized vial of the stuff in her sleeping quarters. Why is her business only.

Thor seems incapable of looking anywhere else but at her. His blue eye is sharp, every bit the warrior he was no doubt raised to be. Valkyrie can make out her own shape in the reflection of his eye guard. Her hips form an easy ‘s’ like the effortless coil of a snake. She tries to look elsewhere as she climbs on the bed. There is room between Thor’s spread legs to settle herself without touching him.

“I can help,” Thor offers. Valkyrie recognizes the flutter in his voice as hope.

Valkyrie shakes her head. “I’m helping you,” she reminds him.

Thor blows out a breath, nostrils flared. Strain shakes through his arms latched above his head. Thor wants to touch and be touched. What piece of her is Thor picturing between his spread lips? Her tongue, her fingers, her breasts, her sex?

Thor has a generous mouth, she’ll give him that. One quite capable of offering ‘help’ in more than words alone. But now is not the time. If he ever wanted to do this outside of this unfortunate circumstance, maybe. But no, it’s unlikely, Thor being what and who he is. Valkyrie is here for Asgard. He trusts her to help him, and help her people by extension. He trusts her to be loyal, to keep those in their company safe. He trusts her not to dote on his generous mouth and its other uses.

Valkyrie kneels on the mattress, thighs split wide. She opens herself with two fingers and dips her other hand in oil. Valkyrie cannot say it’s the first time anyone has watched her do this. But those times were not the first time. There was an established familiarity with each other’s bodies. Eyes on Valkyrie knowing and comfortable.

Thor shifts above her on the bed, arms flexing. His eyelid sinks, the blue between his lashes vibrant and hungry. He drags his tongue over his lips. An answering pulse throbs between Valkyrie’s thighs as she teases a finger into herself.

It’s no wonder that Valkyrie is already wet. She's warm to her own touch, the slightest stroke sending shivers up her back. Desire hums in the pit of her belly. It’s a feeling familiar but long untapped. Valkyrie would blame Sakaar for her drought, a place where debauchery ran too rampant for her tastes. But Sakaar or the most pious colony imaginable, it wouldn’t have mattered. Sex is a good thing, and Valkyrie hasn’t allowed herself many good things since leaving home.

Now, all that’s left of home is this ship and its king watching her with a hazy, heated eye.

“You still can’t touch me,” Valkyrie reminds him.

Thor grunts his assent. “But can I...what if I touch myself?” Every word punctuates itself with a hitched breath, and he drags his tongue over his lips. It’s like he’s felt every sound, each word provoking a mouth that hungers for another’s skin.

Valkyrie doesn’t want to allow him. One, Thor is deteriorating fast, breaths staggering out like a drowning man craving air. Two, Thor looks good like this, far too good. Sweat dampens his hairline and leaves beaded trails along the outline of his face. His nipples bud up like the start of spring, thrust out every time he gasps for air. His cock is an angry, almost painful shade of red. Giving him more will only be another temptation.

But in Thor's condition, he needs something. “Go ahead,” Valkyrie says. She tries to keep her voice even, but the words come out quieter than she intends. They reveal too much, and she can only hope Thor is too out of his head to notice.

Thor sighs his relief and curls a hand around himself. His first squeeze is greeted by an eager thrust off the mattress. Thor’s other hand folds over his throat. When Thor swallows, his Adam's apple presses against his fingers.

Wrapped up in his own touch, Thor misses the quirk of Valkyrie's wrist as she finds the right angle. And the sucked breath she takes when she glides a thumb over her clit. Without Thor's attention, the moment loses its awkwardness. Thor’s glossy eye takes her in as he drags his hand over himself. He doesn’t seem to mind the chafe of dry skin. He slicks his thumb along the crown of his cock. Even from across the mattress, Valkyrie sees that his skin comes away damp.

In this moment, Thor wants Valkyrie and she wants him. It’s like this is normal. Like partaking in such a thing with Asgard’s king is not awkward as awkward gets.

“You’ll hurt yourself,” Valkyrie says, and she passes him the oil. “Here, use this.”

Thor’s laugh splinters like a sob. “You’re too good to me,” he tells her.

She is. She most definitely is. But she’s also not good enough, because as Thor lavishes himself with oil she cannot look away. Thor is not careful or conservative with it. Oil squishes between his fingers and dribbles down his sex. It soaks the blonde curls at his base and slips down his balls. His thighs streak with it, slick lines down the thick curves of his legs. Thor is so careless, too careless. Like he’s careless to be here right now with her.

“Better your sheets than mine,” Valkyrie says. Her voice comes out breathless as she increases her pace. Long as it’s been since she’s pleasured herself, it won’t take long. Valkyrie knows what her body needs and when it feels right. When the tight curl of her body gives way to a loose welcome. Her clit throbs under her touch. She wants, and she tells herself it’s ok. Right now. Until this is over. It’s ok to want this one time.

Valkyrie crawls up the bed. Thor looks up at her, and the hand he holds around himself stills. The fingers against his throat still move, a slow but constant trace. “Let go,” Valkyrie says. Thor does so immediately, fingers falling from his sex and landing with a wet thump on the bed sheets.

Valkyrie sees him of course, but it’s one thing to see and another to navigate. The stretch to straddle Thor is more than she anticipates. It sings between her thighs, a pleasant ache that only makes the folds of her sex wetter. His legs are thick between her knees, their hair tickling her as she scales him.

Thor’s cock fills her whole hand. She starts to guide him but stops when she finds his hand extending towards her. Thor means well, Valkyrie is sure. He could help her balance or set fingers on her side in encouragement. But both options feel too intimate. “Down,” Valkyrie says.

Thor sucks in a breath. His single eye swims up, and he looks at her for a long moment. Thor nods finally, and his hand fists the bedspread instead. Tension shoots through his arm, and his eye crunches closed.

It’s such an obvious struggle for him not to touch her. Valkyrie knows it’s the condition, that’s all it will ever be, but in the heat of the moment the sight affects her. “Don’t you want to watch?” she asks.

“Can’t,” Thor mumbles. “Better this way.” His words barely have any voice in them.

Were Valkyrie’s own state less dire, she may have eased her conditions. Well-founded though her concerns are, she knows Thor won’t hurt her. How she can know this about someone she’s just met is questionable. But Valkyrie knows, and she trusts her own knowledge.

But not having Thor’s full attention helps more than it hurts. Without his stare weighing on her, she can move without feeling.

The pressure is immediate - deep, pelvis-filling pressure. Thor is huge, and he feels good despite how long it’s been. Valkyrie’s legs ache from widening around his hips. He shudders under her, and his fists turn white-knuckled in the sheets. Thor catches his bottom lip between his teeth. His breaths jump out hurried and off-rhythm.

Setting a rhythm of Valkyrie’s own is challenging. There’s so much of Thor, and their position leaves Valkyrie to do all the work. Every rise leaves her core trembling, every fall swells through the small of her back. She sets a hand on Thor’s stomach for balance. It’s rock hard under her fingers, the muscled surface expanding with every breath.

Before Valkyrie realizes what she means to do, she's already guiding Thor’s wrists to her sides. Thor’s huge palms cup her waist with ease. His eye flashes open, and his mouth parts when he gazes at her. “Yes, it’s fine,” Valkyrie says. It’s easy enough to ignore how winded her own voice sounds.

Thor does not need to be told twice. With permission given, it seems he means to make up for lost time. He squeezes her hips and lets his fingers roam up her sides. They ease over her rib cage and along the slope of her spine. Thor double-hands her ass, and the pressure makes her rhythm slip. She feels like an open wound all over, pulsing under Thor’s hands. “Watch it,” Valkyrie hisses.

Thor laughs, a frantic tremor behind the sound. “Sorry,” he says.

No he isn’t, she wants to retort, but his hands distract her. He runs the broad flat of his palm up her stomach to her breasts. One swell fits his hand perfectly, and he tests her like sampling the ripeness of a fruit. His thumb is coarse across her nipple, rough from however many battles. Like Valkyrie’s own, and she reminds him of it with a coarse stroke down his side.

Thor groans his approval, and sits up. Their angle changes severely. Valkyrie is buried on top of Thor, his cock reaching deep inside her. Her knees keep them upright, his body balanced between her thighs. Sitting higher, Thor is able to graze her collarbone with a kiss. He isn’t easily sated though, and his hungry mouth roams to her breasts. His beard scratches against her as he opens his lips for her nipple. It’s quite the sight, his hot breaths offered open mouthed against her skin. The pink of his tongue teases the pebbled swell, face flushed with contentment.

Valkyrie forces Thor’s head up with a finger under his chin. He jerks upward immediately and stares, eye glazed over with want. His mouth is wet from tasting her. She’s supposed to be the strong one in this situation, but there’s only so much a person can withstand.

Kissing Thor is more natural than kissing anyone for the first time should be. Maybe it’s his condition, or he’s just well traveled. Thor doesn’t fight Valkyrie for control. He lets her guide them, follows her seamlessly. When he tastes her, it’s a welcome shift of balance. She likes the slide of his tongue and his warm, comfortable scent. His hair is shorter than it was, but it’s still a good length for pulling. The latter makes him moan through a laugh. His hands are all over her back and find their way into her hair. At their angle, he can only rock forward, burying himself deeper than her body should allow. It’s like he’s trying to mix with Valkyrie, like if he tries hard enough her body will swallow him whole. Valkyrie isn’t as against the idea as she should be. She’s hot all over, and desire turns her thoughts to a lazy fog.

Valkyrie runs her thumb across Thor’s mouth. Thor makes a quiet sound, low and hoarse, and pulls her tighter into his lap. Her toes curl under her, and shocks shoot up her spine. Maybe it’s Thor losing control. Or it’s just one hell of an orgasm.

Either way, it’s the first time Valkyrie remembers losing time in the moment. When she blinks back to herself, her bedroom is off-center, and her face is against Thor’s sweaty shoulder. Thor’s arms are still around her, limp fingers playing with the ends of her hair. His body is a hotbed of motion - shivers and twitches that feel like the purr of an engine between her legs.

“Lie down,” Valkyrie tells him. “Let me get off.” She sounds wrecked.

Thor complies on the first try. His control isn’t back yet, by the way he falls back on the bed. The mattress jumps under his weight, and Valkyrie jumps with him. Spent and sensitive as she is, the motion makes her gasp. “Sorry,” Thor mumbles immediately. “Didn’t mean to.” His words still have a slur to them, and his half-open eye is shiny as a marble.

Sighing, Valkyrie manages to stand. Her legs are wobbly and sore, but she refuses to show a limp to Thor as she crosses to the refresher. She returns moments later with a wet towel, only pausing when she takes in the state of Thor’s sex. Wet with their shared orgasm. Thick, too, and fully erect. “So,” she tries to sound casual, “it keeps going, huh?”

“For a while,” Thor says. He takes a long, deep breath. “But you don’t have to- you’ve already helped so much.” Thor cracks a tired smile. “I can’t thank you enough.”

“I’d rather you not,” Valkyrie tells him. “Don’t think I’ve ever been thanked for sex, and I don’t need today to be the first time.”

Despite Thor’s...prolonged situation, Valkyrie manages to clean him as best she can. A shower sounds lovely, but Valkyrie makes do with her own wash cloth, sweat still shining on her skin. Thor’s eye is closed, and his mouth is open, lips puffed out as he breathes. It’s incredibly sweet, which strikes Valkyrie as something the King of Asgard shouldn’t be. But she still lets herself give his hair a ruffle. “Think you can rest before...that gets too out of control?”

“Oh yes.” More slurring. “Every time is stronger than the last. You can’t - it’s too much without rest.”

Wonderful, now Valkyrie wants to see what ‘stronger than the last’ looks like.

It feels natural to lie down with him, soft and trusting as he looks. Too natural. Valkyrie lies on her back, close enough to feel Thor’s drowsy breaths against her elbow.

“Brunnhilde,” she says.

“What?”

“My name,” Valkyrie says. “Brunnhilde.”

Thor smiles again. “Does this mean I get to trust you now?”

Among other things. But Thor isn’t in muchcondition to discuss those. Neither is Valkyrie for that matter. “For now,” she allows instead. “Rest up, your majesty. You’ll need that strength of yours for Round 2.”

Thor grunts, agreeing with her. It isn’t long before he’s in a doze, body stretched in Valkyrie’s direction. Valkyrie should join him. She intends to participate in Round 2 and however many rounds she can withstand after it.

But Valkyrie watches Thor instead. Asgard’s leader snoring in her bed, no worry in the world of getting one of her daggers in his back. “You trust too much,” she mutters under her breath.

But let anyone try to betray Thor while Valkyrie is at his side. If they only lose one hand, it will be a good day for them.


End file.
